Insecurities of the Flesh
by CrazyTenor42
Summary: "Padme was an angel, flawless skin and gorgeous honey colored eyes. It seemed sacrilegious to touch her with like this. To see this ugly machine held up against the purity of her skin, caressing her as though he was fully human, as if this hand didn't give Anakin enough strength to break her neck in one powerful motion." Anakin is insecure about his new hand. For FinessMcGayor.


A/N: Sorry if Padme seems OOC, this is the first time I've ever really written Anakin/Padme. The prompt was: Anakin/Padme, pride, and insecurities about his non flesh arm.

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Anakin Skywalker, the little boy on Tatooine, knew nothing of pride. He had been proud, yes, but never prideful, if there was such a distinction. He was proud of his podracer. He was proud of his ability to fix things. But he accepted criticism and would admit mistakes. Kister had pointed out flaw after flaw on his podracer and Anakin always acknowledged his opinions – right or not. "You're only human, Ani," his mother used to say. "We make mistakes. We don't know everything."

That was when he had been merely a human, before he found out he was so much more than that. He was a Jedi. He was the Chosen One. Jedi didn't make mistakes. Jedi didn't appear anything less than perfect. He was supposedly going to bring balance to the Force. He couldn't defeat a Sith Lord and remain intact. How was he going to bring balance to the Force?

Anakin raised his hand to knock on Padme's door. The dursateel against durasteel sounded harshly loud, his mechanical prosthetic coming into contact with the door with far more strength than Anakin had intended. Even with the black glove on it, his glove still looked unnatural. How was he going to make it up to Padme? His right hand was his dominant arm. How would she feel being held and caressed by steel? By a man no longer fully human but part cyborg?

"Anakin! I didn't know you have been cleared!"

"I've been assigned to escort you back to Naboo, Milady."

Padme cast him an odd look, but then noticed the residents that were still walking by the apartment, casting interested looks at Padme and Anakin.

"Come in, Master Skywalker."

Once they were inside and the door securely locked behind them, they dispensed with the formalities. Padme threw herself against Anakin, who subtly moved his right arm slightly behind his back as he brought his left hand up to stroke her hair.

"Are you and Obi-Wan alright?"

"Fine." Anakin said shortly. "Did you get your back looked at?"

"There won't even be scarring. I'm completely healed. Are you sure I will not be allowed to stay on Courscant? The Senate is meeting in four days to decide what should be done with the clones. The Chancellor feels they should be established under the Senate control as his Grand Army of the Republic."

"The Council is adamant that you remain on Naboo for a few months longer. The Trade Federation and Dooku are still going to have bounty hunters looking for you. As for the clones…you don't agree with the Chancellor?"

"I think we need to defend ourselves from the Separatists now that it is clear they have been amassing an army. However, I think we should not give up on negotiations and the clones should not be under control of the Senate."

"The Jedi have offered to lead them, under supervision and council of the Senate, of course. Jedi are peacekeepers, not warriors.

"I think that would be a wise idea. Jedi would be our best hope to keep us out of a full scale war."

"And what if the Jedi fail?"

Padme looked up at him. "The Jedi are only human, Anakin. You will make mistakes like the rest of us."

"I couldn't save you, Padme. I let you fall."

Padme sat down on the couch and gestured to Anakin to sit next to her. He sat down tentatively, being careful to keep his right arm still hidden behind his back.

"You let me fall to stop Dooku. It was a sacrifice you had to make."

"It was a sacrifice made in vain. We couldn't stop Dooku. I'm supposed to be the Chosen One, Padme. Chosen for what? Defeat?"

"There can be victory in defeat, Anakin. Master Qui-Gon was one of the bravest men I've ever met. He was a smart and courageous fighter and his death is what brought you and Obi-Wan together. Everything happens for a reason. Defeat happens. It doesn't make you less of a person."

"This was different – this – he – "

"He took your arm."

Anakin looked away and said nothing.

"Let me see it."

"What?"

"Your arm, let me see it."

Anakin slowly held out his right arm as if Padme was some dangerous creature. She took it gently in her lap and ran her fingers over the black glove. With the covering over it, it was just as if he was holding his hand extremely stiffly. Padme pushed up the edge of his sleeve to find the start of the glove. She started to gently slide the glove off. Anakin slid his hand out of her grip.

"Anakin. Trust me." Padme gently reached out and pulled his hand back into her lap. The arm without the glove was almost frightening in its intensity. It was copper, black leathery plastic stretched over the wires and circuits. It was clearly recognizable as a hand, but without any of the warmth. It looked so robotic, so dead and cold clinging to Anakin's skin. There was something peaceful about it though and the more she looked at it, the more it grew on her.

It seemed less like a separate entity now she looked at it and more like Anakin. This was the man who devoted all his spare time to fiddling with some sort of droids or ships. His hand seemed to reflect that. The shine of the metals and the wires, the flawless way the seam of the prosthetic met up with the skin of his elbow, the black plastic matching perfectly with the leather outfits he always chose to wore.

Padme lifted his arm up to her cheek.

"Touch me."

"Padme…"

"Touch me."

Padme was an angel, flawless skin and gorgeous honey colored eyes. It seemed sacrilegious to touch her with like this. To see this ugly machine held up against the whiteness of her skin, caressing her as though he was fully human, as if this hand didn't give Anakin enough strength to break her neck in one powerful motion. He didn't deserve her. He had never deserved her, but now he felt even less worthy. Padme was a beautiful and affluent woman. She could have any man of her choice, someone who she could have a public relationship with, someone fully human, someone she could hold hands with without fear of having her hand crushed.

"I don't want to hurt you, Padme."

"You won't." She brought her hand up to hold Anakin's hand against her face. "I love you, Anakin. I trust you. Now trust me."

Anakin started to run his fingers over her face, paying as much attention as possible to make sure his movements were loving and tender. It was an entirely different sensation with these new sensors. He started exploring Padme's face, flexing and bending his fingers experimentally as he tried to memorize her face with his new hand. Padme closed her eyes, relaxing into Anakin's touch. It was a different sensation to the soft, warm flesh of his fingers, but this cooler, metal hand was not repulsive either. She felt the slight of his fingers pass over her cheekbones, to the bridge of her nose, to her forehead, and then started their slow descent down her neck, pausing to twist a few strands of her hair before slipping down the shoulder of her dress. Padme let out a breathy moan and opened her eyes. She gave Anakin a mischievous glint and without a word headed into her bedroom. Anakin followed suit, smiling for the first times in months. Perhaps there was victory in defeat after all.

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A/N: So, my mind sort of went into the gutter with this but I did my best to pull it out, promise.


End file.
